


time sure flies, huh?

by devilcrowned



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 11:19:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17641778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilcrowned/pseuds/devilcrowned
Summary: he’ll always be ready at the drop of a hat. however, oscar hasn’t even remotely been interested in wearing any kind of headgear, no matter how cold and murderous the world is.a small look into episode 12, volume 6.





	time sure flies, huh?

hm.

so perhaps they’re about to die.

through vertigo and panic, the effort it takes to push past such intense and nauseating emotions is a considerable one, but doable nonetheless. with practice, he focuses on the area around them, surveys the angle of their unfortunate vehicle, and frowns to himself. 

if anything, oscar is doing relatively well when it comes to steering, seeing how the only thing that he recalls the boy being able to drive is a tractor. atlas airships are quite a ways off from all things familiar back at home, and it shows with the unwilling twitch of his hands and the rush of blood past freckled ears.

he’s too slow. if he had just grabbed onto the stick and pulled back, they could have avoided the whole shoreline altogether. the boy’s heart is beating much too fast for logic to come before emotion here, something that ozpin finds a bit relieving, even if this is hardly the time for it. ( it’s something that oscar would surely scold him for, if he had half the mind to pay attention to what was happening in his head right now. oz can’t help but snort at the amusement of it. )

the ex-headmaster could fall into place right now, drag himself out of whatever ditch he’s holed himself up in for the past few weeks and just do what’s natural. it would have been too easy to reach forward, grab ahold of oscar’s hands and use them as his own if he wanted to steer them out of danger. but the child wouldn’t like that, would he? after all, it was his body, he should at least be asked before any funny soul business went down. something about the prospect makes ozpin frown.

at this point in time, if he asked, oscar would surely say yes and give him full reign. desperation and fear can make even the most infuriating propositions appear as if they came from the holy saints above.  it should be an easy decision for the entity; this ship is their way to atlas, and there are two innocent passengers on board that could be killed if even the slightest misstep is made. the lights and sirens of the vehicle are already screeching, in critical position, but as his presence comes to hover above a panicked soul’s to amend the problem, he slows.

stop. rewind a few moments, a few days. faced with the eyes of many a tired and crazed searcher staring him down, oscar smiles and rubs at his neck, saying that he was home and here to stay as long as he could. ( he didn’t know when he was going to disappear, and, frankly? neither did ozpin. everything’s gone wrong since the fall of beacon. he had traveled to another vessel too fast, assimilated the boy to the horrors of the world too fast, reminded the boy that he would no longer be “just oscar” too fast. gods, he’s only 14. how’s that for fair company? ) a gentle flame shines with conviction in hazel eyes, and he feels the boy’s fist tighten and clench when no one is looking, hearing the constant mental mantra of _‘ just keep trying. ‘_

that’s something that he had told himself over and over again in his millennia of existence, because trying meant something to someone. even if that someone was just himself. even if that someone was a million years in the future, living happily in peace without ever having heard the name ozma and his pathetic, tragic tale along with it. there was some payoff, somewhere out there, where one’s work would mean something. he’s put these puzzles together far too many times to deny that.

two seconds. 

he’ll give oscar two seconds before he asserts his presence to salvage the airship at the last possible moment. two seconds to recollect himself from absolute terror and alarm and drag himself out of this mess. ( even with all of his moping and sulking, it seems that, even here, ozpin can’t help himself but lean towards being an educator, a teacher. the boy has to learn if he wants to stand on his own two feet, doesn’t he? ) the child’s heart is beating out of his chest, his teeth clenched together and hands gripping at the steering stick for dear life.

one and a half seconds.

browsing through the kid’s mind, ozpin sees the process of oscar trying to write his own will. the feather pen has been dipped in ink and the parchment lay on the table, waiting for his jurisdiction, but it’s no use. the boy is stone still. he doesn’t know what he wants to do after he dies. ( he shouldn’t have to. he’s so, so small. but there’s nothing that oz can do about it. the gods had taught him that. )

one second.

the treeline is so much closer now. no one can see how the people on the cliffside are reacting, but ozpin can at least begin to guess how their reactions look. ( a particular set of red eyes strikes a pang in his core, making the frown descend into a scowl. ) there’s still time, and there’s still belief. he doesn’t want to pull the plug just yet, not here, not yet. there’s time. 

is there time?

half a second.

oscar’s eyes are still wide as saucers, mouth still slightly agape in a silent scream. if he doesn’t die from the crash, surely he’ll fall from an anxiety attack or something. ozpin wants to comfort him, encourage him, but talking in a moment like this would be deadly. they’d never even be able to get an argument in before theyre all scattered as flesh and blood among the metal and shrapnel, with himself rising elsewhere to another damned human being. 

a tenth of a second.

ozpin closes his eyes, sighs with the combined fatigue of tens of thousands of poor souls, before reaching out and--

\--he watches as oscar pulls up.

there are many bumps and tumbles during the descent, but it’s here where ozpin, completely unharmed by whatever was going on with the boy, finds himself in a daze. oscar holds firmly, the flame returned to his gaze as he skirts and grazes past trees with the grace of a seal on land. it’s not pretty, but with split second calculations, ozpin can see that the other had just barely managed to pull off the perfect maneuver. 

he notices that his hand is still hovering over the boy’s own. how... startling. how bold. but with even all of the risk, ozpin can’t find a single injury that oscar hasn’t begun to attend to himself with his aura. he had been completely useless, an airbag that had stalled a tenth a second too slow.  huh. 

... so that’s who oscar pine is. 

there’s still work to do, and ol’ oz knows that, but he’ll sit back for just a bit longer, watching and waiting as the last resort that the boy probably doesn’t even need. ( ‘ we just did it our own way ‘, hm? well played, ruby. ) a sigh. observation. that’s something that he’s good at ( and boy, ozpin does not find those often ). he could manage to look on for a bit longer.

as the world returns, oscar’s eyelids flutter to the sound of a dying machine.

**Author's Note:**

> let me just say that i wrote this before the volume finale and as soon as i watched it i lost my entire goddamn MIND like what the HELL it really be that way huh? huh??? i wish rt called me and said that i was 90% on the money bc god its uncanny oof. anyway did you guys know that i love oscar pine? i just thought it was good to get out there
> 
> thanks for reading!!


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